


Breadcrumbs That Lead to You And Me

by sugarby



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 12:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25969852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarby/pseuds/sugarby
Summary: "What do you think it's aboutreally?""We're probably expected to select parts we like and dislike in another and compare it to what we want to become in the future.""You meanwho.""No. Personalities by themselves are made up of traits. On paper they are the idea of what a person shows to the world. Who we are shouldn't be limited to just a name otherwise there's no room for growth and experimenting."(Or a class assignment leads them to thoroughly look into themselves and each other).
Relationships: C.C. & Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia, Kururugi Suzaku/Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51





	Breadcrumbs That Lead to You And Me

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble that became 2k+ words when the creative forces blessed me while sleep eluded me at nearly 1am. Enjoy! ❤

The Zero headwear holds weight. Lelouch expected it to from the beginning, it's just become heavier as of late. It now holds more than just his own ambition and the promise he made to himself several years ago; it holds the weight of a people, their hopes and dreams, their freedom.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown and yet Arthur never seems to be troubled by it. Or ashamed, strolling around with the incriminating accessory on once again and giving Lelouch no choice but to give chase. He has to stop a couple times and swears he nearly has a stroke from the flights of stairs he marathons.

Eventually, lead back to his own room, he corners Arthur and retakes the mask.

Arthur is given the sternest of looks.

Lelouch feels a little silly scolding a cat the way he would a misbehaving child or ignorant bigot. It's not as if Arthur has the means to properly understand and reply, but the wearer of the mask has never been one to discriminate.

"Now listen here. _This_ is not a toy for you to play with. It's important."

Arthur's head tilts, "Meoww~"

Lelouch sighs, "Just leave it alone."

It's enough for the time being, Arthur scampering over to the couch and jumping up to take the armrest to sleep. Arthur can't be scolded too harshly at the end of the day. Even with the hijacking of the Zero mask being humorous from _every angle but_ Lelouch's, it did properly reunite two friends. Even gave one of them a casual in with a cautious crowd.

Lelouch sets the headwear down on the coffee table next to his small plate of toast—cooled now thanks to the impromptu cat chase.

The butter that left a delectably golden coating and the crust have become soggy-like. What a waste. He made it the way he likes it: lightly toasted with a fair spread of butter on while it's still hot, then slices it into two exact triangles. There are never any crumbs left in the butter after too. 

He's the type of person who makes sure there are no crumbs left _anywhere_.

His door is knocked and on the other side is the familiar voice that always, for a moment, sends him back to his innocent youth. Of shrines catching the sunrise at their steps, of made up stories being swapped while rain fell hard on a broken shack. Of two boys in the thick of a chaotic world making everlasting memories.

Arthur's ear perks up.

Lelouch breathes out, in. Throws the Zero headwear to the back of where his other skeletons already lie and faces the door with a smile, "Come in."

* * *

Cold or even soggy toast is no problem at all, Suzaku tells when he's offered the plate and told it's not very appealing. He's eaten worse in his lifetime, Suzaku includes as he helps himself to one of the slices.

(After all, it's not like this is _Miss Cecile's_ handiwork, and Suzaku's pretty thankful for that).

It's different to how he goes about making toast, he will say. Not bad and certainly not worse though. Just different. Like, he can imagine just by looking at it the effort and precision that went into even a simple task that most people don't really think twice about.

When Suzaku's making his toast, he means for it to be a middle shade but sometimes it pops up before he's ready. He's usually running on a schedule see and has to race against the clock. He jams a knife into his butter and smothers it on. Some corners tear under the furious scrape but he hopes the extra layer will soften that. He tends to throw his knife back in the sink after a miserable attempt to clear away excess crumbs from inside the tub.

Suzaku is someone who finds he's left crumbs in his butter. Specks of evidence that easily point his way.

And it's only too easy for people to berate him for it. He integrates as best as he can but sticks out like a dusty handprint on a colourless wall. Hoping to be the start of a change from within a corrupt system, he evidently just winds up causing a stir. He's the skipping stone across an ocean of prejudice and violence. He tries to move forward and reach the other side, to not drown, but the skipped stone leaves circular waves behind. Ripples in a still, deep lake.

Suzaku scratches his head. Does it make sense? Or is he that stupid he can't make sense of his own thoughts anymore?

Nestled in his lap, Arthur perks up to hiss and bite the skin between her owner's thumb and finger, fangs leaving an imprinted scolding.

"Arthur! Stop doing that!" Suzaku rubs the space and sighs. Just once, is it too much to be left to wallow in peace? 

Lelouch, watching from beside him, says, "There's something I've wondered about for a while but just never knew how to bring up without it being random."

"Okay."

"Why did you choose the name Arthur?"

Suzaku shrugs. Did he choose it? Wasn't it _Euphy_? "What about his name?"

"That's just it. You know that Arthur is _female_ , don't you?"

Suzaku softly blushes and admits, "W-Well, at first, no."

His discovery of it isn't any less embarrassing either. A cat was trying to mount itself on top of Arthur. Things slowly but surely clicked for Suzaku and he shooed the cat off and took Arthur to the vet.

"It just fits. Me being a Knight of the round and all. You know, like in—"

"Yes, I'm aware of the story." Lelouch interrupts, somewhat offended. "It's just ironic given that King Arthur eventually kills Lancelot after sleeping with his wife, Queen Guinevere."

Suzaku squeaks, garbles through a distorted sound of surprise and disbelief. He gawks apologetically at Arthur in his lap before he holds her up in front of his face, "Arthur, I'm _so sorry_!"

* * *

C.C. quite likes invading Lelouch's space from time to time, coming and going from his room as she pleases. It's not like she can be controlled one way or the other anyway and hiding away in his room does become boring.

She leans over his hunched figure at his desk and her hair tickles his jawline as it falls over his shoulders.

In front on the desk are papers, one of which he's currently writing along the lines of in a fountain pen.

"Look at that. You're actually doing school work."

Lelouch's temple twitches, "Why wouldn't I?"

"Aside from your devotion to freeing Japan and destroying Britannia? It just doesn't suit you. Doing as you're told, that is."

"It'll cause more trouble to neglect my honour student image."

"Of course. We can't expect you to _pretend_ to be smarter than you actually are forever." C.C. leans over and picks up one of the papers for a half-assed skim through.

There's a grading criteria. An advising list of points and themes to include and an example of a metaphor relating to a person's character. It's more or less an assignment about one's amateur psychoanalysis. This is what Britannian students learn on the regular, day to day? No wonder Lelouch is so stiff and dull when he's here.

She sets it back down as it was, without a crease in sight.

Then she helps herself to a slice of his toast from the small plate on the desk. She kisses away butter left on her thumb and doesn't mind Lelouch's glaring one little bit.

C.C. is the type of person who doesn't leave breadcrumbs in butter to begin with (or make toast, actually. She's practically in a monogamy with pizza). So anything she involves herself with, the very places she walks by and remembers, are all left as if she never bothered.

Lelouch demands, "If you aren't here to shed some light on your contract then leave."

"There are truths and mysteries in this world that aren't obligated to be uncovered." 

She thinks Geass is one of them, or used to be. It exists but was never designed to be found and abused by the desperate and greedy. The world itself is made up of many things for its own right; it isn't a servant to its populace. That goes for her too. She didn't grant Geass to Lelouch as a favour to him.

It was sort of out of pity. Mostly for the relief of knowing, while throwing herself between him and fired bullets, that for a while longer the chance to meet him yet again wouldn't diminish.

So really it was for herself, and if anyone should doubt and go looking for _crumbs_ to argue otherwise they'll be disappointed.

Lelouch says, "I don't know how you can expect me to uphold my end of it when A, you won't reveal the finer details, and B you're less cooperative by the minute."

"Everything you need to know you do. Anything else is just prying."

"I don't pry. I like to be informed so I _investigate_."

"You pick and choose. And twist."

"You're afraid I'll want to back out once I know."

C.C. gently bites her lip lower lip, smiling a little, " _That_ is a human emotion I don't feel anymore."

Another mystery of the world—of herself—is why she continues to lie like this. As if she wouldn't take a bullet for him again and again. _'He needs to live so I can die'_ is what she quietly tries convincing herself in the loud void of montages in her mind.

But ten years ago, she was watching over him when he was young and in the thick of a war his father was eagerly perpetuating. She's watched over Lelouch since then and there was no contract binding them at the time.

* * *

Because of Arthur leading another chase after a joke about bathing her, Suzaku achieves the rarity of hanging out in Lelouch's room for the second time in a single day. Usually Lelouch fumbles through some excuse about his room being too messy.

Suzaku surveys the dorm room when he returns with Arthur in his arms and it's never looked cleaner. Next to the plated second piece of toast he hasn't eaten yet is a small bowl of colourful, hard candies. Imported from Japan at Nunnally's enthusiastic request. Suzaku can remember being young and sneaking a few under his robe.

Next to the food are also the papers to their class assignment. From where he stands over them, he can already see an introductory paragraph in Lelouch's penmanship.

"Trust you to already make a start on homework."

Lelouch puts on that modest honour student smile, "Early bird catches the worm. Have you decided who you're going to write it on?"

Suzaku hums, "Not really. I don't have a lot of options. There's Lloyd but..."

His eccentric superior hadn't expressed any sort of discomfort at the idea when Suzaku half proposed it. In fact, he wasn't really even paying much attention, too engrossed in the schematics of his latest project. Miss Cecile encouraged it, as she usually does in regards to their young pilot having a normal, teenage life. She smacked Lloyd and told him it would be good to do something selfless for a change. 

Lloyd stirred too many sugar cubes into his tea, marvelled at his project with the smile of a proud father and told Suzaku in very few words that it was fine either way. And that was all well and good—supportive enough for him even—but there was no point if he wasn't _enthused_ to _open up_. Well it probably would've only been more trouble than it's worth anyway.

Suzaku asks, "What about you?"

Lelouch considers it. 

The assignment requires a subject (person or object) to be studied, their characteristics psychoanalysed and linked to something seemingly unrelated. He's thought about the few people in his fabricated life, his school friends.

Milly will be all too eager and evidently high maintenance and she'll overshare—it'll be all play and little to no work with her. Shirley's fine other than how flustered she becomes in his presence. Rivalz would try too hard on camera. Nina is camera shy and frankly that works out because Lelouch really doesn't want to pick apart and compare an ignorant brain anyway.

He settles on, "Myself."

Suzaku snorts, "Narcissist. What do you think the assignment is _about_?"

"Achieving good grades. Or in your case, _decent_ ones."

Suzaku kicks his leg with hardly any force, "What do you think it's about _really_?"

"We're probably expected to select parts we like and dislike in another and compare it to what we want to become in the future."

"You mean _who_."

"No. Personalities by themselves are made up of traits. On paper they are the idea of what a person shows to the world. Who we are shouldn't be limited to just a name otherwise there's no room for growth and experimenting."

Lelouch's example of this theory is that to call him cruel, for instance, wouldn't invite any chance for him to be kind. The single description alone would solidify. C.C. as well, for instance, fits adjectives like mysterious and reserved and weird. And those split off and link to stronger synonyms, not contrasts like open and ordinary. Lelouch considers writing about her in length with a disguised name but honestly he hasn't the time or high qualification for such a depth into the uncharted.

He knows himself best. After that, there's only one other person.

"I can just as easily write it on you." Perhaps even easier since Suzaku is much more simple. More honest and good—the kind the world has been in dire need of for so long. Maybe by writing about such a person, negative views will be changed around. Or has he just come down with a case of Suzaku's endless optimism?

" _Me_?" Suzaku doubts while rifling through the candy bowl to pick out certain flavours.

Lelouch examples what he could include in his paper, "You know, Suzaku, it's said that pickiness is a sign of immaturity."

"You're _impossible_."

Lelouch shrugs, "But I exist."

"Don't start. I should know better than to get into philosophy with _you_ of all people. I'll stick to running circles around you in P.E., thanks." Suzaku throws a candy piece up and catches it in his mouth with ease.

"Actually, the track is shaped like—" Lelouch's correction is lost in his laughter as he shields himself from a chucked piece of candy. He raises his brows accordingly, "Like I said, _immature_."

"Shut up!" 

Next, they're sharing the candy with the bowl between them because nothing ever changes. 

Suzaku relaxing into a nostalgia says, "I never thanked you. For wanting us to stay friends when I first got here." 

He didn't expect to be cast aside or anything, he just didn't know what exactly to prepare for. Or if Lelouch would even remember him as he was but of course he did. He's the one who constructed a convoluted set of hand signs for them exclusively. And maybe it's a little weird to be thankful for it after so much time has passed but Suzaku is the kind of person who feels and expresses gratitude over many small things that feel so great.

It's the little acts of kindness among the mass discrimination that makes the greatest difference. The spot of sun in an otherwise stormy landscape.

Lelouch smiles sympathetically, "Suzaku, that kind of thing doesn't need verbal gratitude. _I'm_ grateful you've put up with me all this time. We didn't meet on the best terms." And for all the secrets he keeps and never promises to share, he often doesn't even deserve it.

Suzaku smiles back, "I just know how to deal with you."

" _Deal_ with me?"

"Like when you don't get your way."

"Oh, I _always_ get my way."

"There really are two kinds of people, huh."

"I'm actually working on a way to distinguish people based on how they do certain menial tasks that we don't think twice about."

"Like the way people make cereal."

"There's only _one_ right way to do it."

With no verbal cue, only a shared emotion in a glance on their telepathic wavelength, they answer, "Cereal first, then milk."

And then they're laughing together.

Suzaku agrees, "Maybe we should write about each other, yeah."

It's true, after themselves they know each other the best. How Suzaku yawns at a sunset but swears he isn't tired. The way Lelouch looks off to the side when he's too lazy to roll his eyes. The way they automatically reach for the other when they suspect they're going through the motions the roughest. The cheerful hum to Suzaku's tone when they meet again between classes. Writing about each other requires an intimacy and truth they have in spades and more. It's like an open letter to each other.

Lelouch smirks, "You sure you can thoroughly dissect and analyse me, Suzaku? Is a week enough time?"

"Believe me, an entire year isn't enough. Lucky for me, I've had seven with you."

"And you'll have plenty more." Lelouch's tone is a question full of hope that doesn't get a verbal answer.

But when they settle into the assignment beside each other, while their dominant hands recall their youth and starting feelings in the rise of a fated bond, their other hands surely slip to fit into each other's.

**Author's Note:**

> I was spreading butter on my toast and my mind wandered off about people do things in a specific way with unconscious reason. Don't be mean and say I was 'reaching' for a plot or I'll curse your toast from now until the end of days!


End file.
